


Yoga Pants

by slasher_abyss



Series: ♡ Stabby Men Pretty ♡ [5]
Category: The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (Movies)
Genre: Canon-Typical Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Clothed Sex, F/M, Grinding, NSFW, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Smut, Thigh jobs, Thomas Hewitt x Reader - Freeform, mild Dom/Sub, request from tumblr, them yoga pants hot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-25 15:13:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18577069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slasher_abyss/pseuds/slasher_abyss
Summary: They were just a pair of pants. Not lingerie, not a sexy costume. Just yoga pants. But for some reason Thomas really liked them.





	Yoga Pants

**Author's Note:**

> **@imconfused28 said:**
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> Will you do a request of my man Thomas Hewitt seeing his girl in yoga pants for the first time? NSFW is always a plus! Thanks
> 
>  
> 
> **  
> _A/n: This request is mm-mm good ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) You’ve created a monster. I went a bit overboard and this ended up being 70% smut, but hey! In my defense, you did say “NSFW is always a plus!” so… I unknowingly proceeded in a disorderly and thirsty fashion because I don’t know when to hold back._  
>  **
> 
>  
> 
> **Warnings: NSFW as heck. Violence, i.e. you choking a bitch.**
> 
>  
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> **Words: 3700+**
> 
>  
> 
> **. . .**

You weren’t really a big fan of snagging clothes off of victims, especially since you were allowed to pick up some with Luda Mae once a month now that the Hewitts trusted you. But you saw those expensive-as-hell yoga pants on that one girl Thomas was carrying down to the basement and snatched those fuckers like Black Friday came early. Of course, Thomas didn’t think much of it at the time, his one-track mind was set on cutting up the meat for dinner rather than worrying about a pair of pants.

You gave them a good wash with the rest of the laundry, managing to rid them of any and all gore stains before even considering wearing them.

You let the steaming hot stream of water run down your sides and wash away a good three day’s worth of grime after Charlie finally managed to fix the busted plumbing after a trespasser somehow screwed it up. You skimmed your fingers over the darkening bruises flowering over your stomach and lower back, the skin lightly battered and aching from the scrambling hands of some victim you’d ran into and had to fight to the ground to prevent them from escaping.

Coincidentally the guy turned out to be _yoga pants’_ boyfriend.

You were proud to say that the guy looked a lot worse than you and that you had no doubt held the upper-hand throughout most of the fight, but he did land some good hits on you and his nails dug in pretty deep on your side. At the time the pain only pissed you off more and gave you the adrenaline spike you needed to pin him down, your hands squeezing firmly around his windpipe just enough to knock him out, restricting the airflow to his lungs and forcing out choked hasps from his pathetic throat. But those nail-marks and bruises sure were stinging now. You’d strangled him into unconsciousness before Thomas even got to you, hearing the sounds of your struggling voice and thumps against the walls.

You avoided mentioning your discomfort from the bruises to Thomas, who luckily hadn’t seen you without a shirt long enough to notice the marks since the occurrence just yesterday afternoon.

You shut off the tap and wrung your hair out before stepping out into the foggy-humid air of the bathroom, the water sliding down your legs dripped onto the shaggy rug underneath you as you dried off with a towel. You began getting dressed, pulling on a loose-fitting light T-shirt before pulling on those sleek yoga pants. You were surprised by how well they fit, it wasn’t often you found victims with clothes in your size. You hadn’t had the chance to wear pants like these since you lived back home, before all of this chaotic cannibalistic stuff. You missed being able to wear such figure-complimentary attire, being able to move and do your work while still looking good.

You dried your hair a bit more with the towel and ran a brush through the dampness of it before stalking out into the hall, already heading out back to help Luda hang up the laundry and start your morning chores like normal, but have to remind yourself that it’s Sunday. Sundays were pretty much ‘do absolutely nothing and lay around,’ days for the Hewitts, this was mainly because the game was on and this was the only lazy day anyone was allowed.

Well, laundry with Luda Mae was still a must, so you went about your morning hanging clothes up on the clothesline and making small talk with her. After a good twenty-thirty minutes of pinning sheets and whites while lighthearted joking amongst each other you both headed inside just as breakfast was getting put on the table.

Most of the family was already there when you two came in, talking about the first quarter of this morning’s game while passing around the syrup and butter. You sat down next to Thomas’s empty chair and glanced around the room for your gentle giant, but he was nowhere in sight. Odd, he was rarely the last to the table to any meal.

Luda Mae patted your shoulder to gather your attention, her too noticing the absence of her youngest son.

“Can ya go fetch Tommy for me? he might still be in the basement.”

. . .

You find Thomas in the basement as Luda had predicted, hunched over his work table sewing flimsy strips of flesh together with a large needle and thread. As you approached you could see that the new mask was nearly done, Thomas was hand-stitching the last touch-ups like he normally did after it became unnecessary to use his sewing machine. You couldn’t help but smile softly, having watched him do this countless times, but his gentleness while sewing these always reminded you of how careful he could be.

You walked up behind him, pressing yourself up against his back and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Hey, breakfast is ready, better come up before you give Mama an aneurysm.” You joke softly, hearing as well as feeling a rumbling chuckle reverberate beneath your fingertips tracing shapes on his chest. He set his work in progress aside and wiped his hands with a towel before reaching an arm back around you to pull you into his lap.

You snort and stifle a laugh as you shift around until you are facing him with your knees bracketing his waist, you lean forward into his chest and his bulky arms squeeze around you.

“I missed you too.” You mumble into his collarbone taking in his musky scent, nuzzling further into him. Thomas sighs into your hair and you want to forget about breakfast for a moment, content with just sitting here for a while. But your stomach does not agree with you one bit.

You swing a leg over his lap to sit sideways and try to pry his arms from around you.

“C’mon, let’s eat.” Thomas groans but reluctantly loosens his grip around you, allowing you to slide off his legs. He’s up after you and has one of your hands as you climb the stairs of the basement to the dining room, luckily in time to fill your plates before most of the breakfast was gone.

. . .

You feel Thomas’s hand on your leg through the entirety of the meal, not necessarily in a sexual way, just feeling. You figure he must have noticed your yoga pants and liked the material, and it didn’t bother you, so you let him.

After finishing up, Thomas’s hand didn’t stray from your hip as you headed upstairs to your room for your alone time, which usually consisted of you reading or talking to him as you snuggled up against each other on the floor or bed. You had expected him to trek back down to the basement to grab his mask and finish it upstairs with you, but he seemed adamant to stick by your side today, and you couldn’t complain.

But you also didn’t notice the way Thomas was looking at you, eyes fixed on your legs and hips in those pants. You hadn’t ever really worn anything like those around him before. And Sure, you’d worn much more revealing stuff to accommodate the heat, but something about the material and smallness of what you had on now drew his attention to your generous backside and wound his nerves tight. His face was heating up under the mask of dried flesh around his features. Thomas wasn’t really shy with staring anymore, especially since you’d mentioned on several occasions that you liked it, but he still couldn’t help but feel like he needed your permission to look at you like this.

You are just a few steps away from the now-closed bedroom door and mid-sentence when you feel Thomas’s large hand sliding away from your hip and down to your backside. You gasp and stop walking immediately, your face heating up before a smug grin crept up to your lips upon the realization that he might like those pants a little more than you thought.

You did have the whole day to yourselves, and it wasn’t often you got opportunities like these.

You attempt to smother a giggle in the back of your throat and turn around to face Thomas who appeared to have braced himself for your response, you may have sex often and he rarely has trouble initiating it, but he’s still a bit timid with these things. Afraid of making you uncomfortable or doing something wrong, you’re prepared to be-rid him of those feelings.

Your smile is innocent, warm, but your eyes are coy and deceiving. You catch a glimpse of Thomas’s Adam’s apple shuddering under a gulp as he was backed up into a wall, with his consent, of course, otherwise moving him would be impossible. It was a sight to behold, someone two-three times your size at your mercy, it was almost funny.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” You ask in an accusatory and semi-authoritative tone, playful but firm. Thomas shrugs and avoids your eyes, you could almost see the splotches of red peeking out of the gaps in his mask. He was also beginning to sweat. “Eyes on me.” You reminded, and his dark brown eyes obeyed, flickering back up to yours.

“Naughty, you really like these don’t you?” You grab his hand and place it over one of your spandex-covered thighs, drawing out a runt and a small-but-eager nod. You grin and lean forward to press yourself fully against him, guiding both of his hand to your ass and clutching his biceps for something to hold onto. “Me too, I like how they feel.”

Thomas hums as if to agree, but it sounds distant because his attention has centered on the feeling of the soft cushions of flesh against his twitching palms. His fingers kneaded the softness of your ass and your eyelids fluttered at the feeling, you stretch your arms up as far as they can and stand on the tips of your toes in an attempt to reach up around his neck.

Thomas got the message and bend down to your height so you could loop your arms around the back of his head and pull him into an unhurried and passionate kiss. Your nose bumps into the rough dry leathery material of his mask distractingly, but you don’t ask him to take it off, not yet.

It would take too much air, and you honestly quite liked the idea of him keeping it on while he fucked you. Just for a little while, it reminds you of a time where his mask _was_ his face to you. It’s as morbid as it is endearing to you because it’s was what you became accustomed to. And sure, you adored his real face much more, but you didn’t hate his fake one all that much either.

Thomas pulled you against him tighter, a growl forming deep in his throat and vibrating pleasantly against your lips as your stomach presses against his rapidly hardening erection. His meaty hands are already tugging at your shirt, and you almost let him strip it off, but instead, you push his insistent fingers away from your hemline and press one last chaste kiss on his soft lips and turn around.

You were not at all experienced in being “seductive” in this way, and you could feel your face burning up to dangerous levels as your blood settled behind your scarlet flushing cheeks. Surely Thomas is confused, and you are correct in your assumption, he even thinks you’re going to walk away for a split second as you turn your back to him. But he is quickly proven wrong when you back up into him, bending over ever so slightly and press your ass right up against his crotch. Thomas breathes in sharply and you can feel him twitch against you, you try to focus on that instead of the absolutely obscene view you are giving him and can’t help but grind backward onto him when you hear him start to pant.

You do not expect Thomas to move much, thinking he’s practically paralyzed or unsure of how to recuperate. So when you hear him make an almost animalistic noise and feel him grab onto your hips in a bruising grip, you can’t choke down the cry of surprise when one of his arms locks around your waist and crushes you against the solid shape of his chest. Your hands fly back to hold onto his forearms and you tug, he doesn’t budge, and the display of his strength compared to yours sends a shiver of pleasure down your spine and a shot of arousal between your lightly trembling legs.

“Thomas, touch here.” Your voice penetrated the air like a pin in a silent room and cuts through his resistance as he recognizes your words as offered guidance, and you’ve discovered he likes being bossed around in the bedroom. For one, he likes pleasing you, secondly, he likes being told what you want him to do even if he knows very well what makes you squirm. He’s like moldable putty, you can shape him into whatever you desire, but Thomas just likes you to tell him exactly how to give you pleasure, especially in explicit terms.

In other words, Tommy was a sucker for pillow talk.

He lets you pet his hands away from your hip and waist and drag them up to your plush chest. Your huge man squeezes his hands over your breasts enthusiastically and buries his face into the back of your shoulder when you resume a steady grind against his throbbing cock through the seemingly too-thick-for-comfort layers of clothing. His hips buck involuntarily against your ass during a particularly hard thrust against him and the movement allows his bulge to wedge in between your cheeks and press against you in a way that makes you moan distractedly.

Gaining the confidence you needed from his quiet whimpers and groans into your neck and shoulder, you pull out of his reach once again. You lean over the edge of the bed and look over your shoulder at a frazzled Thomas, who is straight out staring at your ass and thighs— and most likely the wet spot where you’ve soaked through your panties and now started to seep through your yoga pants. You hadn’t even noticed how wet grinding against him had made you, and by the look in his face, neither did he.

You wriggle your hips in his direction, encouraging him to come over without words. He scrambles over so fast it’s almost a little funny, and you bite your lip to stop yourself from potentially sending him mixed signals by laughing. After all, you find his enthusiasm incredibly sexy, And, who wouldn’t want to bend over you after getting teased so much?

You feel him lean over you, his chest and stomach pressing up against your back, hairy arms caging you and his hips laying flat against your tempting behind. You grown into the sheets as his probably painful erection brushes against you once again, you decide to have mercy on both of your by reaching back and snapping and pulling on his zipper, you allow his cock to slip out of his pants. The moment his bare flesh brushing against your inner thigh you are pressed down deeper into the sheets, his hands curling around your wrists and holding them down to the mattress. You gasp and moan as he takes control over your movement and a flood of pleasure sparks between your legs as his cock slides in between your thighs.

You close your thighs around him so he is squeezed tighter against your core and the soft spandex covering your skin.

“Mhh, I want you to fuck my thighs, Baby, can you do that for me?” You squeeze out through rough pants, and you hear Thomas whine loudly against your shoulder blade.

The hulking man nods frantically against your shoulder and releases your hands to grab your subconsciously gyrating hips. The first few thrusts between the gap between your thighs are stuttering and unpracticed, you can tell he’s still hesitant. You adjust the pressure around his member as he self-consciously ruts against your backside, hips clumsily bumping into yours as the new sensation of the stretchy material of your yoga pants against his hot, hardened flesh starts to overwhelm him.

After a few minutes of trial and error, and him accidentally slipping against you, you muster up the guts to start talking again once he’s gotten the hang of it.

“Feel- ah! Good? you’re good right?” You ask a bit dizzily, not even sure if he made sense of your question. But once his cock starts dragging against you at just the right angle you’re a mess of babbling praises.

“You feel- _mmh_ , so good! That’s perfect, ahh you’re good, such a good boy— _oh, god!_ ”

The moment you start saying nice things and calling him pet names he’s melting above you, hips rutting faster and more desperately between your quivering thighs and his heavy panting picking up speed and grittyness. Thomas always responds strongly to praise, he thrives on feeling valued and once you start the wave of compliments it’s hard to stop. Why would you want to? It makes him eager to please and makes him come faster, and you’re all for making him feel good.

Oh god, you’re really close now, your walls are clenching around nothing and your thighs are twitching and stuttering around his girth uncontrollably as you approach orgasm. You need a bit more pressure, and a bit more direct stimulation to actually come but teetering on the edge is as pleasurable as it is torture. You want to slither and hand in between your legs to grind on your palm but you’re absolutely boneless from the waist up. You’re practically sobbing without actually crying into the sheets, you can’t help but wonder how much longer Thomas is going to last with all this friction, he’s always been on the sensitive side, how in the hell was he holding out for this long?

You sure hoped he wasn’t trying to hold back his own release because of you, the faster he came the quicker you got to as well. Words of encouragement are streaming through muffled lips before you can stop them.

“Hah- _yesss _, please come, baby, I’m close, I can’t- _ah!_ It’s _oh-_ okay! Please, come for me!” You practically wail, and Thomas whines and groans into your hair, he’s panting like a hound against your back, almost drooling under the intense waves of ecstasy buzzing through his entire nervous system. The sound of your sweet voice begging and urging him to finish sends him in a downward spiral and his dull fingernails dig crescents into your skin.__

__Thomas’s mind flickers to a sudden thought, reminded of the significance of your own pleasure. He forced one hand away from your buckling hips and slides a thick hand beneath you and between your thighs to apply pressure to the general area of your clit through the tight-fitting pants to help you along. Your orgasm rips through you not a moment later, and your back arches under the overwhelming shots of drunken pleasure. You hips buck back into his and your thighs squeeze tightly around his slickened member repeatedly._ _

__Thomas bellows out his pleasure and goes stiff, shoving himself against you and accidentally pushing you up the sheets a few inches. After a split second your giant man is moving again, rutting against you and groaning into the sheets and against your neck as he spills all over your inner thighs. Thomas has always been a heavy producer, and his cum drips heavily down your spandex-covered legs and into the thin sheets. Once his shuddering finally starts to calm his body relaxes, pressing you down into the suddenly overly-cozy bed sheets. You sigh dreamily and smile when Thomas mumbles something incoherent, sounding apologetic as he rolls off of you. You appreciate his cause to not crush you, but you’re far from ready to be away from him._ _

__You manage to get Thomas to scoot over so he’s at least not half-way off the bed and curl up at his side as you recover just a bit longer. Your soaked yoga pants feel kind of gross after a while and you’re already overheating, so the next moment you are kicking them off and toeing them off the mattress. Your underwear is just as cum-soaked and not at all comfortable, so those go as well._ _

__Thomas must have been getting too hot as well, because when you turn he is stripping away multiple layers as well. Either that or he’s about to roll you over and fuck you properly. You can’t say you have a problem with that, on the contrary actually, you were counting on it._ _

__You’re overcome with a playful adrenaline rush and perform operation sneak attack by hopping over to his position sitting on the edge of the bed and drape yourself over his back. You’re both giggling like teenagers as you smack kisses all over his ‘face’ from behind, gushing to him about how good he was and pulling him back in your arms to cuddle you. Thomas didn’t require a whole lot of respite time before he could go another round, but you liked to relax a bit in between sessions when you had all this time to yourselves._ _

__It isn’t long before Thomas starts pulling you tighter against him, already starting to get hard again as your ‘conversation’ melted into gentle praise and things you’d only say to get him going. Using those bedroom-specific pet names that got him breathing heavy._ _

__Your fingers curled around the neck of Thomas’s mask, and one of your legs swung over his hip, you hoisted yourself on top of his large mass. You started to tug at the dry, leathery material you certainly weren’t in the mood for now that the kinkiest part of you has receded, and your softer, loving side starting to seep through. You wanted to look at his real face._ _

__“Take this damn thing off.”_ _

__. . ._ _


End file.
